


Something Special

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pasha wants to do something special for his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Special

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my wife amoonofmars on tumblr. I love you, slay!!! /smooches/
> 
> Pasha = Deimos
> 
> Jules = Phobos

Pasha sighed, upset with himself. Tonight was supposed to have been a date with Jules, but a moment of anxiety and low self esteem had made him chicken out. Pasha was frustrated that he couldn't do nice things for Jules the way Jules could for him.

He closed his laptop and slumped over his desk. He wasn't getting any work done, anyway. 

Jules was bred pure from the upper-middle class. Pasha was practically a street rat. Jules was riding college out on his family’s money. Pasha desperately clung to scholarships and worked when he wasn't in class. 

Sometimes, Pasha felt outright inadequate compared to his boyfriend. Jules paid for everything, bought all the nice gifts (Pasha affectionately pet the leather jacket Jules had bought him), and drove them everywhere. Pasha would go as far to say that he loved him, but it hurt to think about how little he brought to the table. 

Pasha pushed his chair back. He decided that he was going to do something special for Jules tonight. It was only ten p.m., he could still make a solid date out of the evening. 

What could he do, though? He crossed his arms and leaned back. Maybe he could draw him something? He was an art major after all. However, he texted Jules sketches and doodles almost every day (usually captioned with “thinking of you” with something cute). That wouldn't be special. Did he have any other talents he could use? No, Pasha had no talents. At all. 

Pasha closed his eyes and pondered. He couldn't even cook. His diet was an endless slew of Ramen and cereal. The only time he used an oven was at work.

Pasha's eyes shot open. The pizza place! He had an idea. 

Pasha put on his leather jacket, grabbed his apartment keys, and left his room. He would have shouted to his roommate, Kazimir, that he was going out, but he noticed a sock on his door. He must have been with Ethan. Pasha stopped. 

His selective mutism made it hard to communicate. When he was feeling confident, though, like he was now, he could be pretty bold. 

"Hey, Kazimir," he spoke loudly. "Don't worry, I'm gonna grab you some extra small condoms. I'll be back real fast." 

Pasha hurried out as Ethan started laughing, ruining their moment.

"Pasha!" Kazimir yelled after him. 

Pasha smiled to himself as he left the building. The night was cool, but not unpleasant. A full moon lit Pasha's path to Jules' nice apartment. Getting through the hilly college town took him fifteen minutes. 

Pasha went up to the third floor of Jules' posh downtown apartment building. He took deep breaths as he approached the door, preparing himself in case Jules' intimidating roommate answered. He knocked lightly. 

A short pause, and the door opened. Pasha was grateful that it was Jules who opened the door. He gave him a small and hopeful smile, but Jules seemed displeased that Pasha had shown up on his doorstep after bailing on their date. He crossed his arms and look down at Pasha. 

"I thought you had homework to catch up on," Jules said with a quirk of his is eyebrow. 

Pasha looked at his feet. The confrontation was making him uncomfortable. "I was farther ahead than I thought." His throat was on the verge of closing. 

"Pasha, you're never caught up." Jules knew him and his ability to procrastinate too well. 

Pasha shoved his hands in his pockets, and rubbed his lips together, a nervous habit of his. 

Jules must have sensed Pasha's anxiety levels, since he asked him in a lighter tone. "What's up?" He still maintained a salty disposition. 

Pasha reached out and took Jules' hand in his. He pulled at Jules' arm gently. 

"You wanna go out?" Jules asked. He could read Pasha. 

Pasha bobbed his head up and down eagerly. 

Jules sighed. "Fine." He freed his hand from Pasha's. "Let me grab my keys." He turned back into his apartment. 

Pasha waited at the doorway. He looked around the chic living room and kitchen. There was nice clean furniture, a flat screen, and not an ounce of clutter. Pasha felt guilty about his cheap and unkempt home. 

Pasha heard Jules shout to his roommate that he was leaving. He reappeared a moment later with his keys. Pasha stepped aside and let Jules lead him to his car parked outside. 

They hopped into the sleek back number. The car had become a bit of a safe place for him. It was always clean and calm. He liked the leather interior and bright blue lights on the radio system. Countless hours have been spent in it. His favorite part of the car, though, were the memories in the back seat. 

"Where are we going?" Jules interrupted his thoughts. He had already buckled up and was impatiently tapping his index finger on the steering wheel. 

Pasha whipped out his phone and typed up their destination. He held it up to Jules.

Jules' nose wrinkled. Pasha always thought it was cute how his face scrunched up when he was miffed. "That pizza place you work at?" 

Pasha nodded.

"Isn't it closed?" 

Pasha just held up his phone and pointed at the words. 

Jules rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Alright," he conceded. 

Jules turned on the engine and pulled onto the street. 

"It's nice to actually see you wearing the jacket I bought you," Jules commented, snark could be heard in his voice. 

Pasha smiled. He wore this jacket all the time, and Jules knew. Hell, he slept with it on the first week he got it. Jules had a hard time giving compliments without giving them an edge, as if he would lose control if he was unapologetically nice. Pasha understood. 

Pasha suddenly remembered that Jules had to be hungry for things to go as he planned. He turned to Jules. Enough of his confidence returned for him to ask “Are you hungry?” 

“Yeah, I never really ate dinner,” Jules answered. 

Now Pasha was concerned. “Have you eaten today?”

Jules tried to wave him off. “I had a salad for lunch.”

Pasha stared at him, his face scrunching into an accusing glare. Jules could feel the intensity, but tried to keep his eyes on the road. He took a couple glances at Pasha anxiously. 

“I promise, Pasha,” he assured. “Quit doing that, geez.” Pasha’s expression softened. 

Jules likes to act like he’s in control, but Pasha knows how to bend him around his finger. 

When they hit a red light, Pasha leaned over the middle and gave Jules a quick kiss. 

"I'm driving, Pasha!" Jules exclaimed with irritation. Pasha caught the blush on his cheeks. 

They were only a few blocks away from Pasha's work when Jules' phone beeped. 

"Shit, I need to take this." Jules pulled to the curb. They were in a residential neighborhood, so the streets weren't busy. He pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket. Pasha noticed that it was a new model. Pasha’s phone was three models old. 

Jules scrolled through what must have been an email. His lips pursed as he read it. When he was done, he firmly put his phone down on the middle. He made a loud noise, keeping his mouth closed to try and muffle it. 

"Work?" Pasha asked quietly. 

"You have know idea," Jules complained. 

Jules was a coding major. In an effort to gain experience, he'd signed up to help code an indie online game. Jules hadn't expected the work to be this hair pulling. It wasn't the code that was screwing with him, it was the other people on the project. 

"This fucking..." Jules made animated motions with his hands. "...FUCK HOLE Keeps asking me to do shit that doesn't fall under my goddamn responsibilities." He ran his finger through his hair. "Why the HELL would you ask me to reconfigure the image sequence? That isn't even remotely related to what I'm doing!" He put both middle fingers up and gestured in no specific direction. When he finished his episode, he sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

Pasha gave him a worried look. 

Jules looked over and saw his expression. He became guilty. "Sorry to rant like that." 

Pasha shook his head and reached for Jules' hand. Jules let him pull it out of his pocket. Pasha delicately kissed the back of his hand. Jules blushed a little and turned away. "You don't have to kiss me everytime you think I'm upset." In response to his remark, Pasha kissed each knuckle one by one. Jules took his hand away, but not forcefully. 

"We should get going," Jules said, still blushing. Pasha nodded. 

When they got there, Pasha used his key to unlock the back door. He lit up the kitchen and went to work getting out some of that day's leftover ingredients. 

"You're making me pizza?" Jules asked unamused. 

"We're making pizza." Pasha said as he took of his jacket and carefully set it aside. 

Jules rolled his eyes and huffed. “Fine.” He took off his jacket and washed his hands. Within a few minutes, all the ingredients were laid out. They each had an individual set of ingredients: one round of pizza dough, a serving of tomato sauce, ¾ cup of cheese, some pepperoni, and sesame seeds (Pasha’s special ingredient). 

First, they needed to prepare the dough. It was formed into a disc already, all it required was some kneading to soften it. Pasha demonstrated on his dough how to properly knead and spin it in his hands, taking flour out of a tin as needed to keep it from getting sticky. Jules imitated the movements with clumsy motions.

“Goddamnit!” Jules lost control of the dough and it smacked his face. Flour was powdered over of his charming features. Pasha snorted and turned away, trying to spare his boyfriend from his stifled giggling. 

“Pasha,” Jules said in a stern voice. Pasha turned towards him. He kept his hand clamped to his mouth, not letting any laughs slip out. A handful of flour greeted him. He sputtered back, waving a hand in front of his face. Jules smirked at him, flour still on his face. Pasha took another handful of flour and tossed it at Jules. Jules held up his arms and tried to block the flour attack, laughing. 

After their giggles subsided, Pasha demonstrated the proper way to spread sauce over the dough, which Jules did easily. Then, the pepperoni simply had to be laid out flat with the edges touching. Pasha whipped out each slice in skilled, practiced motions. Jules watched his hands work. A flirty smile crept onto his face. 

“Can you help me, Pasha?” he asked, batting his lashes. 

Pasha nodded and started taking slices off, then putting them back on slower so Jules could follow.

“No, Pasha.” Jules motioned to his arms. Oh. Pasha put down his pepperoni and went behind Jules. He wrapped his arms around him, placing his hands over Jules’. The position was a little awkward since Pasha was shorter than Jules; his cheek was smooshed against Jules’ shoulder. It was still romantic, nonetheless. Pasha guided Jules’ hands, brushing their fingers together. When they were done, Pasha placed a kiss to the back of Jules’ neck. 

All that was left was to sprinkle on the cheese and sesame seeds.

“Sesame seeds?” Jules asked. 

Pasha smiled. “Chef’s special,” he said coyly as if he was sharing the secret to the Mona Lisa. Jules rolled his eyes.

The pizzas went into the oven. They had a few minutes before it would be done.

Pasha sat on the counter while he waited. Jules came over and stood between Pasha’s legs. 

"What gave you the idea to make pizza for your boyfriend?" Jules asked as he rested his hands on Pasha's knees. Pasha could feel Jules' thumb brushing the curve of his knee cap through his jeans. He shrugged. 

"I wanted to do something special," he said. 

Jules rolled his eyes, but kissed Pasha without a problem. They kept each other busy with kisses and gentle bites until the oven beeped. Pasha had to bat Jules' hands away to get off the counter. 

He used a flat metal spatula to take out the pizzas. The cheese bubbled around the edges. Pasha used the pizza cutter to cut them into slices. He pulled two bar stools to the island for them to sit on. After giving them a moment to cool, they were ready. Pasha nodded to Jules. 

Pasha picked up a slice. Jules apathetically picked up a slice from his pizza. He took a small bite, melted cheese stretching from the pizza to his mouth. His eyes lit up.

"Oh," he said through his mouthful. "OH, HOLY FUCK, PASHA." Jules began cramming the pizza in his face. Pasha was more than a little startled to see his refined lover inhaling the greasy food like it was ambrosia. When his mouth wasn't overstuffed, he asked Pasha. "How is it this good? The food here is terrible." 

Pasha had been eating his slice at a slow rate. He ate it all the time. "When we," he was referring to himself and his coworkers, "make it, we don't follow the recipe." The recipe their boss used was made to conserve ingredients, but the cooks had found a combination that actually tasted good in their downtime. They didn't sell it, but it was handy when they got hungry during breaks. 

Jules nodded and kept eating. After consuming his first piece, he grabbed Pasha roughly by his shirt collar and kissed him fiercely. Pasha was indeed shocked, but kissed back all the same. When Jules was finished with Pasha, he released him and dove into the next slice with a similar vigor. Pasha licked his lips, blushing. The pizza taste clung to his lips. 

Within five minutes, Jules had eaten nearly half his pizza. His speed and the sheer amount he’d eaten had finally caught up to him. Jules laid his head on the counter.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Jules groaned.

“I was afraid that you might bite me if I got between you and the pizza.” Pasha had only eaten one slice. He stared at Jules, his head in his hand. It made him really happy that Jules had enjoyed what Pasha made. There was still a nagging feeling that he hadn’t done enough, not compared to what Jules usually did.

Jules gave him an analytical look. "Why do you look so sad?" 

Pasha averted his eyes. "I'm not sad." 

"Yes you are." Jules folded his arms on the table and set his chin on his arm. "What's up?" 

Pasha shifted in his seat. He couldn't lie to Jules. He sighed.

"You do so much for me,” he looked down sadly, “and I make you cheap pizza.” 

“What do you mean?” Jules arched an eyebrow.

“You bought me this jacket,” he affectionately looked over at the leather, “you always pay for dinner when we go out, and you even bought me a plane ticket home when I didn’t have any money last Christmas.”

Jules rolled his eyes. “That’s what this is all about? Pasha-”

“I can never do anything for you.” Pasha’s voice raised slightly. “I can’t take care of you. I can’t give you what you need.” His eyes had grown wet. He blinked back tears. 

Jules straightened. He spoke in a gentler voice. “Pasha…” He sighed and reached over to their jackets. He dug around one of his pockets until he pulled about a small stone. Jules laid his hand out flat in front of Pasha, displaying the smooth gem. Pasha immediately recognized it as the piece of amethyst he had give Jules. 

Pasha and Kaz had road tripped to the mountains last year, and on the way they came across a rock shop. “You can buy rocks?” “Why would I pay money for a rock?” Out of curiosity, they’d gone inside and found not the rocks they were used to, but gems and crystals. They were floored to see all these different colorful shards. Pasha’s favorite was the amethyst. It had a blend of soft and dark purples.The beauty of it reminded him of Jules. (Kaz bought six different blue gems. Pasha was convinced that he had a blue fetish.) 

“Remember this?” Jules asked.

Pasha nodded. He smiled thinking about how much the gift had surprised Jules. When Pasha had explained that the gem made him think of Jules, he’d blushed a patchwork of reds. Pasha would never forget the adoring look Jules had gazed with at the small stone, or the grateful kisses he’d given Pasha afterward. 

“I keep it with me all the time.” Jules rubbed it between his fingers. “It’s saved me from a lot of panic attacks.” Pasha’s eyes flew to Jules, who was gazing at the rock. “Whenever I get stressed, I use it like a worry stone. I don’t know,” he sighed and shrugged, “it makes me feel like you're there holding my hand, and I don’t freak out like I normally would. Like earlier when I was ranting about work, I grabbed it out of habit.” Jules shifted the stone so that it was in his fist. He rested his elbow on the counter. His brow was knit as he tried to explain. “What I’m saying is, you do things that mean more. I buy you something once in a while, but there’s nothing sentimental about the things I give you.” Jules glared at the ground. “I can’t think of really nice things that mean a lot.”

Pasha was lost. Jules thinks that he doesn’t do nice things for him? What? 

“Everything you’ve done for me has been amazing.” He took a hold of Jules’ hand. Jules looked back at him. “Remember those cookies you made me? I still have the pictures of them on my phone. I loved them so much.”

Jules rolled his eyes. “You mean those cookies I tried to shape into butterfly knives?” 

Pasha nodded eagerly. “Yes! I loved them.”

“They were ugly. You couldn’t even tell what they were supposed to be.”

“I could tell right away!” Pasha squeezed his hand. “No one has ever gone as far as you have to make me happy or give me nice things like you have.”

“I could say the same to you,” Jules threw back. “Everything my family does for me feels like an obligation. They don’t really care about each other.” Were his eyes watering? “It’s just about convenience.” Jules rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. “You’re the first person who’s ever really wanted me to be happy.” 

Pasha’s heart sank like an anchor at the sight of his strong boyfriend looking so sad. He stood up and embraced Jules, who buried his face in Pasha’s shoulder. He didn’t tremble or sob, which relieved Pasha. He kissed his head. 

Jules rested his chin onto Pasha’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Pasha gently shooshed him. He thought for a moment. “Did I tell you why the amethyst reminded me of you?”

Jules pushed out of the hug enough to look Pasha in the eyes. “Why?” 

Pasha smiled. “Because it was the prettiest one there.” 

Jules laughed and blushed. “Pasha…” He rolled his eyes. Jules tried to play it off, but he knew that he loved it when Pasha buttered him up. Pasha went in and kissed him. 

Jules’ lips were always soft. Pasha didn’t think that he’d ever seen him with chapped lips. Pasha could never keep track of his chapsticks, so he either went without or kissed off some of Jules’ lips. 

Jules licked Pasha’s bottom lip. Pasha trembled in excitement. He parted his lips and fell into the rhythm of pushing their tongues back and forth. Like the seashore tides, the push would sometimes come in deep with full force, but other times it would be gentle and loving, only to leave one or the other wanting more. 

Jules pulled away suddenly, leaving Pasha reeling. They were both heaving for air. Jules smiled wickedly and licked his pink and swollen lips. “I’m taking you home tonight.”

If Pasha wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now. Jules hopped down and grabbed their jackets. Pasha made to follow him, but Jules yelled back as he headed out “Grab the pizzas!” He couldn’t shove them into boxes fast enough. Pasha didn’t bother cleaning anything up. He barely made the time to turn off the lights and lock the door. Jules was speeding out of the parking lot before Pasha could even slam the door shut. He laughed and kissed him as they sped back home.

**Author's Note:**

> they get too excited on the way back so Jules just pulls over so they can do it in the back seat. then they do it some more when they get home.


End file.
